


Pieces of Me

by Blankspace0103 (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:42:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Blankspace0103
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uh. So please dont kill me?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction.

“I- but, Stiles… I though you had Lydia?”

Stiles shrugged. He didn’t know how to explain it. Not really.

“Dad, you weren’t there. You didn’t see what I saw. When a girl does that- gives up everything including her heart for a guy… And you didn’t see how he looked at her. I’m not willing to take that from him, from either of them.”

He watched as his father rubbed a wrinkled hand across his weary face. He knew there was more conversation coming- he had seen these looks long enough to brace himself.

“What happened? You were just kids! And then, then Erica and Boyd are missing and the Argents disappear. Scott freaks and becomes a shell of himself. I will say Lydia and Jackson make quite the pair, and Issac… Whatever Isaac has with Derek seems to have made him tougher but you? Stiles, you grew up right before my eyes! In a matter of weeks.”

Silence surrounded them as both males struggled for words. Ways to mend bridges long since burned. One path to cross the chasm that had welled up between them.

“When did you and Derek become such a thing?”

“We are not a thing. Not exactly. It’s not really love between us. It’s just… It’s what you were looking for when you tried things with Scott’s mom. You wanted what you had with mom. Companionship. Comfort. Someone to laugh and cry with. Someone who knows you so well, and still wants to learn all of your secretes. Except it’s different. You still want love in the equation. And I have slowly been accepting the fact that love… it’s not for everyone. “

“Hey now. Stiles! What kind of a life philosophy is that? So what- you’re just with Derek because you both lost someone or something? I mean- how do you just choose like that?”

Stiles ground his teeth. “I know it doesn’t make much sense dad but it is what it is. Love doesn’t conquer all! It wasn’t enough to keep Scott and Allison from caving to the choices they made. It wasn’t enough to keep Erica and Boyd in town. It sure as hell wasn’t enough to save mom!”

“Is that what this is about son? Is this about your mother?”

“I- gah- God dad! No! It’s just I’ve seen what the idea of love can do! You spend all of your time devoting yourself to this person or these people and you blind yourself to all of their flaws! To their families' ideals and how much they disagree with your own. You forget who you where, where you came from. You forget what made you who you are. Or worse, you know all of that, remember it all. You realize that it’s very likely going to get you killed and you still choose love. You stand there, with a beast staring you down and you step forward blindly and reach out your hand, reach out some token that only means what you made it mean and you accept that yeah! Ok, maybe you die. Or maybe you appeal to the beast within that loves you back and you risk everything and throw everything away for an ideal that cost you everything.”

He shook his head and wiped a hand across his face, in a mockery of his dad’s earlier action. “I don’t want that. I wasted my life loving Lydia, only to realize she’d never love me. I loved mom and it meant nothing in the end. I. Damn it dad, I love you, and yet look at where we are! We can’t even communicate with each other any more! I chose Derek. Not because I love him or he loves me, but because we both understand how dangerous love is. How foolish it is to throw all of yourself into some silly notion.”

His dad said nothing for a long time. Eventually he stepped forward and pulled Stiles into a rib-crushing hug. Stiles felt the warmth on his shoulder where tears were soaking through his checkered top, and it took him a moment to realize his dad was speaking. “How did I mess up so bad raising you son?”


	2. Not love. Not yet.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek are not in love.

Stiles was currently sitting on the roof of his house, waiting. Because in his opinion, that was how life went. One waited and wait and waited, until either what they waited for happened or they died, leaving behind more people to wait and wait. Stiles was lucky though. He knew that the thing or rather, person, he was waiting on at this moment would show up. Two years they had been doing this. Stiles was eighteen tonight. He never missed big days like this. Christmas, Thanksgiving. Hell, he'd even shown up on Hanukkah. Sometimes they talked. Talked about what had happened to Scott. Why he might never be the same. Talked about Erica and Boyd and the secrete letters they sent. Sometimes they talked about Lydia and Jackson, who had a wedding planed for next year. Sometimes they talked about what happened to all of the Argents with the exception of Daddy Argent. They talked about them, each other or their own self. Not very often, but some times they did. Stiles had a feeling tonight would be one of those rare nights.

  
Stiles also had another feeling. Tonight they would talk about that night, two years prior when his dad had found out. He knew Derek had wanted to ask for a while now but Stiles had been silent about it. Derek knew that what ever had happened was eating at Stile. He was worried that it would rot inside of him, and he would end up like Scott. Or worse, Issac, who had fallen for Scott and spent every waking moment trying to get Scott back. Neither of them had the heart to tell him that while Scott's body was still on earth, breathing and eating, the soul that made him so... So _Scott,_ had died three winters ago. Of course, if anyone could save Scott, it was persistent, faithful, puppy-like Issac.

  
Stiles was jerked, rather roughly mind you, from his thoughts as a warm body thumped down beside him. A packet was tossed into his lap. He opened it, smiling at the barrage of gift cards inside. He glanced up, noting the bored look on Derek's face and sighed, setting the gift to the side. 

  
"All right, spill. You have questions and I promised to answer them tonight."

Derek sighed, and rubbed his hand down his face. Huh, he must have learned that from Stiles. Certainly he wasn't secretly hanging out with his dad.... Right?

"Your dad still hates me, doesn't he? I can't go to the store with out receiving death stares from him or his deputies. One even had the nerve to accuse me of... to imply I am to blame for Scott's being so broken."

He leaned against Stiles. It was cold out. Stiles cupped Derek's hands in his own. They were both cold.

"No, he just doesn't understand is all." He wasn't prepared to have the warmth yanked away from him so suddenly.

"Dammit Stiles! You act like I don't know this. He thinks I've brain washed his son and used him. I know how you feel but you have no clue how much it hurts. Watching you brush away any form of feeling. Acting like we are just one night stands that keep reoccurring. I know you don't believe in love but you obviously feel something for me. You have too. You don't spend two years the way we have if you don't at least want something other than sex. Which, might I add, we have yet to have taken part in."

Stiles wasn't surprised. He had seen this coming, watched it creep up on Derek so slowly he was bound to be blind to it.

"Scott's dying."

Derek looked stunned. That clearly wasn't the response he was looking for.

"The Doctor says there is nothing wrong with him, except that he has given up his will to live. After he slit those veins in his arms, it was pretty obvious. I'm surprised he held on for a whole year. Maybe Issac did more good then we thought. And Erica and Boyd are coming home next month. They got married in Vegas and she is now pregnant. Danny is beginning to show some interest in Issac. I hope he is okay trying to put those pieces back together. Scot's been given a week. If that long. I should go see him. I might go see him."

Derek stared at stiles curiously. When had his... friend? Companion? Huh. When had Stiles become so cold and factual. When had he become so calm he was practically neutral? Better question. When had the two of them swapped roles? He slowly lowered himself back beside the teen, and wrapped his arms around the boy's thin shoulders. That was all it took. That one comforting touch and Stiles was burying his head in Derek's chest. Loud wet sobs broke the quiet night as Derek rocked the torn up teen back and forth, whispering empty promises and wishfully thoughts to him. They stayed like that until tears became ice and they were both practically frozen. Stiles slipped into his room, prepared to sleep, while Derek lingered at the window ready to say good night. Stiles turned up both ends of the bed.

"Stay." Derek stayed. They could talk about his father another day.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Papa Stilinski had heard the entire thing. He closed the door, as two bodies tried curling in each other, instead of self imploding. Better yet, his son was sleeping instead of just.... laying. Maybe what the two had worked out wasn't so bad after all. Maybe


	3. After doing the Dirty

These were among some of the best and some of the worst moments of this odd companionship. He still blushed like a school girl when they called it sex, but that was what it was. There was very little emotion in it- at least, very little they admitted to. Some days, one or the other would just be in this mood and they'd fall into Derek's bed for a quick tumble. His bed was bigger. The first few times had been nothing more than awkward tumbles. After a few tries, they made it work. Soon enough either one could have the other a sweating thriving mess in a matter of minutes, and then hold them right there at the edge for _hours._

Sometimes, they even cried out each others names amidst the groans and grunts and curses. It was wonderful sex, but it often left Stiles feeling empty and alone. He had never thought he would want someone to _love_. He still wasn't sure he wanted to. But he did want some emotion involved. Really, it seemed like they met at a club and came for a quick tumble. They always stayed in bed together though, after those moments. And that was what made them such great moments.

In the deepest part of slumber, Derek would curl up into him, an arm draped over his waist, a leg tucked into the crooks of his own. Normally it was enough to put Stiles to sleep, the warmth of a body next to his, the rhythmical tones of their breathing together. Tonight though, his mind was preoccupied with other things. The talk they were to have with his dad tomorrow. They planned it and it never happened. Either they canceled, or Papa Stilinski did. It was a talk they didn't want to have.

It was easy morning Scott, who had died just days after their night on the roof. It was easy to coddle little Brianna, Boy and Erica's little girl. It was almost _relaxing_ to get caught up in the whirlwind of planning for the wedding in six months. But it was damn near impossible to talk to his dad about himself.

He had stopped sleeping at his own house the night after his birthday. Even now, as he sat propped up by pillows, relaxing to the even breaths of Derek, he just couldn't forget his dad's last words to him. _“How did I mess up so bad raising you son?”_ Stiles had had no way to refute that statement. No way to explain to his father that he had done nothing wrong. That it had all been Stiles. Stiles had lied, and snuck around, and Stiles had broken the bond they had once had. Stiles had done in. Not his dad.

They had spent every day up to Stiles' leaving dancing around each other and avoiding each other. No words other than polite small talk had passed between them. Stiles had thought that relationship had been laid to rest. And then Isaac and Danny had shown up, both trying to love each other and only one succeeding, with a thick envelope from the sheriff. He was unaware of his hand tracing Derek’s triskalion, until Derek turned in his sleep, catching the hand. Stiles knew he was waking up, so he didn’t bother to still his hand.

“Nervous?”

“No. Apprehensive is more like it. I don’t know what he thinks is going to happen.”

“He is trying, Stiles. Which is more than can be said for you.”

Stiles removed his hand from Derek’s.

“Stiles, don’t. Don’t shut me out.”

“I am not shutting you out. I am going to go take a piss.”

Derek sighed and sat up in bed, realizing that he was not going to go back to sleep until he could figure out what had Stiles in such knots. Sure, the kid had been cold and factual for two and a half years now, but this was different. He was taking Scott’s route and it was scaring Derek. Derek wasn’t sure he loved Stiles. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He cared about him. Sure, he cared a lot for him. But that was because he was the closest thing to a friend he had. Isaac and Boyd and Erica were pack, but it was a broken pack. The Alpha pack had not even wasted time on this bitter fracture mess they called a pack. The bed bounced as Stiles crawled back in.

Derek opened his arms, and for a second he worried Stiles would ignore the invite as he so often did. But the boy needed another’s touch whether or not he admitted it. He was rewarded for his efforts. Stiles slide down and snuggled into the embrace.

“My dad thinks I am a screw up, Derek. What could he possible want to talk about now? He thinks he fucked me up. Like looking at me is looking at a mistake eighteen years in the making. How exactly, Derek, am I supposed to deal with that.”

Derek growled and glared at him. “Well Dammed be it all Stiles. If you would quit shutting everyone out maybe you would know how to deal with things that are not as bad as they seem to you. The world isn’t against you!”

It was quiet as his words settled in the room. Stiles stood without a word and walked out of the room and into the guest. He was glad he had convinced Derek to restore the old Hale house, if only because it meant he wasn’t sleeping with a sky light over his head. He would go to the dinner tomorrow and appease Derek and his dad. He couldn’t say he would be any different for it, but he would go and be pleasant and polite. He had always been good at putting on airs. Derek sighed in his bed and slid back down, knowing full well neither of them would sleep much without a warm body. He would wait until Stiles was asleep and then he would join the boy. After all, they both needed sleep to deal with the Sheriff tomorrow.


	4. Self Destruction

It was quiet as they sat there. Nothing but three breaths and the scrape of metal on china. Stiles had forgotten about his mother’s old china, with its gold edges and grape leaves. Why his dad had thought to use it, Stiles might never understand. But there they sat, the three of them, sipping sparkling cider from wine glasses and trying not to chip the china.

“Brianna’s quite the charmer. Isn’t she?”

“Mhm. And she’s going to make such an adorable flower girl next month.”

Derek stared at Stiles, who was remaining silent. The Sherriff coughed, and winced, dry chicken apparently not going down the right way.

“Derek and I are going to get married in New York. He has business there.”

Two heads swiveled towards him, wearing identical looks of shock. 

“You are?”

“We are?”

“How can you not know about your own wedding plans?” 

“Because I didn’t know we were getting married that’s why!” 

Stiles watched the explosion, as each man slammed a hand on the table glowering as they got in each other’s face. It was exactly what he expected, everything he wanted, and yet, it left nothing but a sick feeling  
in his stomach. So maybe he was stirring the fires that were already burning. Sue him.

“I decided. About five minute ago. I mean, why not. Isn’t it what you want dad? Your son to live a respectable life full of love and laughter?”

His dad sat back looking older than he should have. Older than the father of an eighteen year old. Old like a grandfather. It was funny, looking at his dad and picturing a grandfather. 

“We might even adopt.”

Now it was Derek’s turn to look incredulous. “Stiles, where is this coming from. I thought you wanted to fix things, not make them worse. And don’t you think we should discuss these sort of things together before you blindside your father with them? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Stiles shrugged, not to be ornery but because he wasn’t sure himself what was wrong. He shoveled the rest of his chicken into his mouth and stood up. He was not sure what his next move was going to be though, so he stood there, staring blankly at the space between the two men he cared about. Not loved, no, no more love, but definitely care. Caring. Lots of caring. Some days. Most days. On occasions. “I’m going to see Scott. You two have fun.”

\--------------------------

“You should have been there tonight Scott. You should’ve stopped me. You were my sounding board mate. You’d always tell me when a plan was stupid or dangerous. You only let me go through on the good ones. But I screwed up this evening. Again. Seems it happens a lot. Of course, I did this on purpose. Somehow it just seems easier to cut the ties than to put in the effort to fix it. And I’m so tired Scott. Tired of trying to fix all of these broken relationships. Tired of feeling all of these emotions. I’m just- I’m tired of it all. Some days I wish I could do what you do. Just give up and stop trying. But I can’t. And I hate you for that. I hate you Scott. Because you left. And you should be here. And you shouldn’t have shown me what leaving can do. How it breaks those left behind. How it fractures foundations and how nothing is stable after it. How could you do that to your mom, to me? Over Allison? We get it alright? You loved her. But she left. She left and she didn’t look back and she wasn’t coming back! I needed you man. I need you ever fucking day. You were my best friend and you left me! Abandoned me!”

He didn’t know at which point in time the rain started, or the tears, or the screaming. He didn’t remember slamming his hands into the headstone until they bled. He didn’t remember Derek’s arrival. All he knew  
was his hands were bloodied and his throat hurts and his face had warm and cold rivets of water running down it. And Derek was there. Because Derek understood. Well, no. Nobody understood. And Derek understood that. 

They sat there for a long time in the pouring rain Derek rocking him as Stiles sobbed. Stiles thought it was kind of funny. How often this happened lately. When had Derek become his rock. When had Derek stepped in and become his Scott? The Robin to his Batman? He wasn’t sure if he liked it. If he was ready for it. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to let Scott go. Or more correctly, let the hurt go. 

And that was the root of most of the problems wasn’t it. The pain was his shield. He’d been wielding it for two years, almost there. It had chips and nicks, where Derek and others had tried to get through, but  
he’d been smart about it. He’d glossed over those nicks and chips and he’d built layer upon layer of calloused indifference, but every once in a while, something slipped through. Someone managed to find a hole he hadn’t patched and crack he hadn’t seen.

And he broke during those moments. When they managed to squeeze through, but in the end, he always patched himself up and moved on. Only, now he wasn’t sure he could take the fractured pieces of himself and fix it anymore. He didn’t know if anyone could fix him.

“So we are getting married.”

“If you want.”

“In a month in New York.” 

“In Time Square if you can manage it.”

“And you want kids?”

“Four, two boys and two girls.”

“I want twins.”

“Fine. Boy and girl twins. I want you to make sure that it’s a set of fraternal boy girl twins.” 

“Okay. Okay.”

They sat for a moment longer. The rain pelting down in icy shards. Both were shivering but neither could be bothered to move as they soaked up the warmth of each other. Now Stiles remembered why he kept  
fighting. He fought for the moments like this. Because even though it stung, when things slipped through the cracks, sometimes it was nice, to feel something other than empty.

Why couldn’t Scott have felt this with him? What was he doing wrong that Scott couldn’t feel enough to stay with him?

“Let’s go home Stiles.”


	5. Can Stile's feel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe... or maybe he's just nauseous.

They stayed around long enough for the wedding. It was beautiful, if not slightly overdone... But with Lydia, it almost seemed understated. Beside Lydia stood Erica, and beside Jackson stood Danny. Issaic had come with him, and whatever arrangement they had seemed to be working. They were fostering the most adorable little Russian boy who served as a ring bearer, and Brianna had only been waylay-ed twice on her trip down the aisle. None of the exotic orchid petals made it to the floor, but no one seemed to mind. The small town seemed happy just to have some sense of normalcy once more, after Scott's death and the return of the runaway couple and the oddities that were Derek and Stiles and Danny and Issaic. Issaic however, seemed to be coming to terms with Danny, which caused everyone to breath with a little sigh of relief. Ms McCall even returned for the wedding, but she looked so fragile and worn no one was surprised she didn't stick around.

Stiles hated it. Every moment of it. From the puffy white gown that mad Lydia glow, to the stunning tux that brought out Jackson's own alabaster skin. He hated the fluffy pink of the other girls and the forest green the males wore. But mostly he hated the joy radiating from the party before him. He stood, leaving his dad and Derek to watch as he slipped out, sitting next to Ms. McCall as both let tears stream down their face, but not in honor of the nuptials going on. Neither spoke, but both knew the importance of the date. Even if no one else knew this was the day that Scott had broken. Why should these couples be so happy on the day that had ripped not one, but three hearts apart?

Ms. McCall grabbed his hand and squeezed, and for a moment, Stiles understood. He would never see his best friends mother again. She would leave and she would pass on, much like her son. She'd die working of course, but she would never again have that sparkle in her eyes. And she would also always be bitter of the blessing she had just witnesses. She didn't know of Stile's own up coming wedding, no one but the three of them did. That was how he wanted it. She would go off thinking Stiles would forever be the broken boy her son had left behind and Stiles was ok leaving her with that, since he could leave her with nothing else. Ms. McCall got up and left, not a single glance back, and Stiles wondered how many times that would happen to him before death graced him with it's presence. How many times would he have to give up those he loved without a single goodbye before he was the one walking away without a word. 

He scowled amidst his tears, rather surprised at how dark his thoughts were. Of course, it was nothing new, but this was the first time he had recognized it in himself. He scrubbed his face, knowing nothing would remove the redness, or the puffiness in his eyes, but people would be so caught up in the wedding they'd accredited it to joy, not sorrow and hatred. Besides, he wanted to feel Derek against him. He had become rather accustomed to it.

He entered just as the kiss was taking place and took his seat. Derek gripped his hand, and something shot through Stiles. Something he could not label or define, and something he didn't know if it was pleasant or not. It tingled. Like a feeling he should have remembered, but one he had lost so long ago. It made his stomach clench, and he wasn't sure if he felt the urge to throw up or not. He stared baffled, at their linked hands, and at Derek who seemed oblivious. He pushed it away though, laying his head on the broad shoulder offered to him, and tried not to cry once more. He knew that would be him in a matter of weeks, pledging himself to one person for the rest of his life. He knew how Derek felt, the hurt he could see in Derek's eyes all the time these days. Derek wanted more. Derek wanted better. Deserved both but wouldn't give up Stiles. Heaven only knew why, but Stiles was pleased to know he would always have Derek, selfish as it was. They already had rings, simple platinum bands engraved with the other's name, and a location picked out at a park they had stumbled across. It would be them, the Sheriff, and the Justice of the peace. It would take no more than thirty minutes, if it took that long. 

Stiles never did understand why he got those not-sick flutters in his stomach every-time he thought about a life with Derek. He had asked Scott several times what they meant, these feelings in his stomach, the clenching of his heart, why sometimes he lost himself to daydreams of a better life. Sometimes he imagined Scott laughing, telling him he was getting better. Other times Scott openly mocked him, told him to prepare himself for the heartache and misery to come. But most of the time there was no answer, and Stiles sat, whether on dry grass or mud, staring at a stone that held no more answers than he.

As he and Derek departed, their hands stayed linked. Lydia had chosen not to have a reception, so everyone went their own way as the couple left for what was bound to be a great honeymoon. Issiac and Danny had retreated quickly to their flat, no doubt to workout their own private issues and to try and salvage each other. Boyd and Erica had managed to corner them for pleasantries, but Stiles had distracted himself with Brianna and her dark skin and blue eyes. She had seemed as uninterested as the goings on around her as Stiles, and it seemed to bond the two of them. Finally he claimed a headache and Derek sighed as he dragged himself away from small fractures of his pack. 

The ride home was quiet despite Derek's jaw's grinding. Derek said nothing as he strode through the door, headed for the bedroom. Stiles was confused, unsure of what he had done wrong this time as he went to follow his... companion. He wasn't prepared for the door slammed in his face or to hear the sobs, guttural and wrenching, from the other side of the door. He stood there for a long moment, long hours, unsure of what to do. It was not until all was quiet on the other side that he slide in stripping down to his boxers and clambering into bed. Derek was awake, but choosing to ignore him. It was Stile who initiated the contact this time, something new for both of them as he carefully placed a hand across Derek's stomach. Again those little crawlers made their presence known in his stomach but he ignored them as he shifted closer. It was for the heat in the cool air, and nothing more. At least, that's what he told himself as he curled in tighter and fell into a deep sleep.


	6. Fragile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles looses it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, comments would really be appreciated....

Stiles felt it. Felt himself breaking into tiny little pieces at the grave. This was it, the moment he had feared for so long. He'd come to talk to Scott about things. About Ms. McCall, about the crawlers in his belly. About the rope he couldn't quit shaping into a noose subconsciously. He really didn't know how or when he had gotten to the stone slab, or why the ground was wet- well, originally. He knew it was wet right now because raining. He visited Scott in the rain a lot. It made Derek uncomfortable, because fragile human Stiles could get sick and all of that. 

None of that was why he knew he was cracking though. He knew he was cracking because he was seeing Scott. Laughing and crying with him and speaking and hugging him. It was great and grand, but there were two parts of his brain. The part seeing Scott and enjoying it and the part that recognized how wrong it was to be experiencing this. Scott kept grabbing for his noose, but Stiles didn't want to let it go. He didn't know why. It was a shitty noose made out of cheap twine that probably wouldn't support him anyways. Scott reached for it again, and suddenly Stiles was angry.

"Just stop already!"

Scott looked mildly confused. "But Stiles, you don't want to die. You have Derek. And your dad. Stiles you don't want to die. 'Member? You are gonna be something big. That brain of yours... I thought you were gonna go all FBI on our small town ass and shit."

"Derek? What the hell does he have to do with this. I already told you that we haven't spoken in like three days. Since the wedding. God Scott. Keep up!"

Scott faded for a moment, then smiled. "Oh Stiles, you don't know yet do you. You don't get it. I never understood how you could be the smarter of us, the planner, and yet you could miss the most obvious of things."

Stiles scowled, running the noose through his fingers anxiously. Had he taken anything? Drunk? Yeah, he'd had more of his Zoloft then he should have. A lot more. Briefly he wandered how long it would take for them to find him. Maybe that was why he could see and feel Scott.

"So this is death?"

Scott laughed again, and Stiles' heart clutched painfully. Oh how he had missed that noise. "No silly. You aren't dead. And don't deflect on me like that. You're avoiding the topic of love. Don't you get it?"

"No.

Scott sighed, and for a moment, he looked as broken as he had when he'd been alive. "My mom has no one to love anymore, except people in general. Issac and Danny are learning to love each other. Your dad and Derek have you, Lydia and Jackson have each other. I don't know about Allison. Ericka and Boyd have each other and Brianna. But you, Stiles, who do you have?"

The question didn't make sense to him. If his father and Derek had him then didn't it stand to reason that he had them? Or was that the whole point? Or was Scott implying that Stiles had lost his ability to love?  
He turned to ask Scott, but Scott was gone. Not that he had ever been there to begin with. Which again begged the question what the hell was going on here. Stiles felt warm tracks run down his cheeks, and he could feel himself curling up on the ground. There was a sharp pain between his shoulder blades and he couldn't breathe. He didn't know how long he'd been like this, crying and unbreathing, only that it had happened before Scott. He was supposed to marry Derek soon, but they hadn't spoken since the wedding. Stiles still wasn't sure what he had done wrong.

Stiles didn't know a lot of things right now, except that the ground was cold and hard and everything was wet and he hurt. And that he had taken too many Zoloft. But that wasn't what was important. 

Stiles did know those things, but he also knew that suddenly he was warm and he was floating and there was some solid mass plastered to his side and there were voices that were foggy and distance and flashing lights and it all made less sense then seeing and speaking to Scott who he missed and suddenly wanted back. These people were taking him away from Scott. And that had to stop. "No! No let me go! Scott! I have to talk to Scott- you're making me leave him and he is going to disappear again and I-" he was cut off mid rant by an injection in his arm and his already clouded brain got foggier. Not so foggy that he didn't realize the cracks were growing, splitting him open, because there was a very concerned Derek towering over him and he was hooked up to tubes and there were men in scrubs talking too fast for his brain to comprehend. But mostly there was Derek- Derek who had been gone for weeks. Derek who had kicked him out and silenced him and the crawlers in his belly were going haywire at the sight of Derek and those eyes flashing red and green and that stubble and everything and suddenly he got what Scott was getting at.

Could he live for his dad and Derek? Did he... were there feelings inside of him for them? He started to reach out to touch Derek or to touch the bed, or something to prove this was real when the nurses gave him another shot. As he drifted all he could think about was Derek. Derek who had come and rescued him and who made his stomach ache in a good way and Derek who had his noose but had it concealed in the hand he was clutching of Stiles and Stile suddenly wanted to hold Derek's hand all the time and suddenly the noose seemed really bad even though he wanted it and suddenly he was scared he was going to die tonight and Derek and his dad wouldn't know that inside broken fragile Stiles who was breaking apart at the seems still had enough emotion in him to want to live for them. What if he never got to tell them?


	7. Thin Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When did these lines start to appear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments please?

Derek stares.  
Just stares. Silent, brooding, disappointed, maybe even a little angry, a little hurt.  
Stiles doesn't say anything, just cups his left arm closer to him, ignoring the blood smearing across his batman t-shirt. 

He doesn't remember when he started, or really why. Doesn't know what motivated him to do it. All he knows is he cannot quit. These lines, this thin-but-thickening red lines leaving scars on his arm are all that are keeping him here. The pain, it distracts him all day and all night. As he drags the knife across his skin, watching the little red dots appear.... nothing else exist in those moments. He knows he shouldn't, even now as he heats a blade to re-open some of the older scars. Derek is there in a flash, grabbing the items and throwing them into the trash. He grabs at Stile's arm and releases his claws, dragging them against the skin. 

Stiles is happy. Appalled. Scared. Mollified. It's everything he needed, but nothing he wanted. Derek is yelling, hands human now as they clean up pooling blood. "Do you hear me? I thought we were through with all of this after the Zoloft! You promised! You promised your dad. You said you would live!" 

Stiles wants to argue that he has done nothing wrong. He slit horizontally, and shallowly, not deeply and vertically. Hell, he'd avoided every major vein in his arm and he'd been careful to wait a week or more before doing it again.

Derek had wrapped his arm, a little too snug, but Stiles said nothing, focused instead on the ring glinting his name back at him. Not Stiles, but his real name. 

It had been beautiful. The day was sunny and clear, and the leaves were just turning. Derek had looked handsome in his suit and charcoal tie. Stiles hadn't looked to bad in his blazer and alabaster tie. His dad had even cleaned up in a dress uniform. People had stopped and stared, some taking pictures, others shying away. Someone had been kind enough to give them a disposable camera full of their wedding. A kind stranger with too much heart. They had a framed picture of the kiss, a little blurry and slightly out of focus but still beautiful, hanging in their den.

Derek spoke again. "Stiles, you promised to live for me."

Derek looked so broken. Like a kicked puppy or a kid who had just lost everything. Stiles reached out a hand and ran it through Derek's hair. He got those stomach-flutters again, the ones that dream-Scott told him to pay attention to. He focused hard on them as he slid a hand around Derek's neck, and ignored the burn as he pushed the other against that broad stomach. He leaned in, initiating the kiss. It wasn't totally new, but the emotion behind it was. He was putting everything he couldn't say into this one kiss. That he was living. That he cared. That there might be more to this than just caring. He didn't know if it was love, if he was capable of loving, but he wanted Derek to know he was trying. Derek was helping him relearn to live. But Derek was not enough. He needed that pain to remind him he was living, not dreaming. That it wasn't drugs or something else causing the stomach flutters that he suddenly realized came with attraction- and maybe more. He tried to put everything he was into the kiss. 

Derek stilled at first, not resisting, but not participating. And then Derek caught it. He caught everything Stiles wanted him to. Maybe more. He kissed back like he never had before, and Stiles heard him. He loved Stiles, he was fighting for and with Stiles. It killed him to see those lines on Stiles arms. 

The kiss was perfect parts passion, lust, desire, want, love, and even forgiveness. Stiles pulled back breathless, and raised his arm. "Thanks, but I won't need that again."

That was all the talking they did before it was a haze of motion and emotion as they made their way to the bedroom. Stiles groaned against the weight of Derek, cried out at the feel of his cock pressed to his ass, he raked fingers down Derek's back, bit shoulders to stifle cries much to loud even for the seclusion of the woods. He even breathed out Derek's name as they came together.

Stiles got it then, the rush of emotion he had always lacked after sex. He grinned, the first real smile since Scott, and ran a hand down Derek's sweaty face. "I will always live for you."


	8. The End

Derek sits in his office twisting the golden band on his finger, worry and dread etched into the lines across his face. He was older, his hair starting to pepper, and crinkles around his eyes starting to form. He aches at some points, and his body isn’t what it once was. But he is a werewolf. He has time. More time then he wants, than he needs.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be hold-up in this dark room with his computer and paperwork. These files were unimportant; the cases could wait until tomorrow. Derek should be with his children. Pierce and Siren were right all along. Derek worked too much. At first, when they had adopted the nine year old twins, Derek had worked to keep out of the way. And then he had worked to pay for school, and for Stiles to follow his dreams, and for cars and bills and all the other adult things people worked for. Now he worked because it was habit. 

He traces the letters on his ring, and sighs. Derek never quite knew when it had happened. He never knew when the shift in Stiles had occurred. He just knew that one day, Stiles is sitting there, putting words on a paper and drinking cold coffee when he looks up and tells Derek “I love you.” 

Derek had dropped his own mug and stared. It was everything he had ever wanted to hear and nothing he thought would ever happen.

Stiles had never even looked up from the article he was writing. He just continued on like it was a normal every day occurrence. It was about the same when he announced they were adopting older twins and that he had already put in the paperwork and to get dressed, they had a meeting at nine with the social worker.  
Stiles had said “I love you,” on their fifth valentines. He had said it on Derek’s fiftieth birthday. He had said it at their fortieth anniversary. Stiles didn’t say it often, but after that first time, it was in everything he did. Even the children knew Stiles loved them, though their da did not say it to them much. Derek had tried to compensate. To say it every day twice a day. But he had a feeling the children knew that it was Stiles who had fought hard for them and had won, that it was Stiles who had watched them sleep every night until they started staying out late and spending the night away. 

Derek never understood the connection between Stile and himself. He never quite knew what kind of label to put on it. All he knew was he loved Stiles, and somewhere along the way, Stiles had learned to love him. Or maybe he had just learned to recognize it.

Derek ran a withered hand across his face. Stiles was ill. He had been for some time, but in typical Stiles’ fashion he had been stubborn about it. And as long as Derek could take away some of it, he had let him be stubborn. The children had disapproved, never quite trusting the werewolf abilities even after years of experiencing them firsthand. They had argued long and hard with their father to put their da in the hospital. 

Derek had, but only when he could no longer take the pain, when his abilities no longer stopped the cough or quieted the murmurings.   
Cancer. Derek had known, had smelled it, had told Stiles. Cancer was stealing Stiles from Derek and there was nothing in the world Derek could do.   
But Derek had a secret. All of that healing, and stealing Stiles pain… it had given Derek cancer too. He hadn’t known it was possible. But then again, he doubted anyone else had ever stalled cancer for six years. 

Derek was dying with Stiles. But he was here, in his office, putting things in order. Today was his last day.  
Today was their last day. Derek knew this. He knew that as soon as Stiles’ heart stopped beating, so would his. Siren and Pierce would survive. They had their own children to look after, and Siren, sweet girl, had a grandbaby on the way. Derek liked to think that his and Stiles death would coincide with the new life being brought into the world. 

He tidied up, closed out of his computer one last time, and headed for his car. He didn’t remember the trip to the hospital, or walking to the room. All he remembered was climbing into the bed next to his frail mate. Stiles looked so old, so warn, pale and withered and just tired. Derek had clutched his hands tightly, and kissed him one last time, and then the world had gone dark.

 

It turns out there was a heaven, because that was where he and Stiles woke. They had smiled at each other, younger and more robust, with all of the energy and love they should have had at first. But Derek figured it was better late than never right? They had watched Derek Stiles Hayse be born, and then had left the world behind them to enjoy the new one unfolding before them.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so like I said, please don't kill me.


End file.
